


All is Calm, All is Right

by diefleder_tey



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, World of Ruin (Final Fantasy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28255551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefleder_tey/pseuds/diefleder_tey
Summary: It's been a rough year; first Noct got absorbed into the Crystal, then the light faded from the world.  On the first Festival of the Glacian in the new long night, Prompto finds himself somewhat lost in the dark.  What's he supposed to do now?  How is he supposed to feel?  But maybe, just maybe, the real problem is that he's been looking for the answers in the wrong place, and who better to ask about light through the darkness than Ignis….
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: FFXV Secret Santa 2020





	All is Calm, All is Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyx_aeternum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyx_aeternum/gifts).



> Dear nyx_aeternum - Happy FFXV Secret Santa and subsequent holidays!! I hope you have a great season. Thank you for loving Promnis and I hope you enjoy this gift. 
> 
> Thanks so much to my beta for always being the best!

Prompto wasn't a fashionably late kind of person. He was frequently late to events and he was known to miss a deadline or two, but never on purpose and never simply to be seen by the crowd. Things just… _happened_. And as such, it happened that the supply run he had agreed to accompany returned later than he expected, later than when he told Iris and Gladio he would be home. Such as it was now: _Home._

He wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to calling Lestallum that. What few things he owned resided there, and there was a bed for him - specifically _his_ bed, as opposed to some spare cot or bedding down in the back of a truck after a transfer with whatever extra sheets and pillows the outpost could spare. But it never felt right in his head or on his tongue. He knew he wasn't being fair; it had been less than a year since Noct disappeared into the Crystal and only a few months since they last saw the final ray of sun. "Home" before this has been a house he lived in for more than eighteen years. Of course eight months couldn't compare. He needed to give it time.

It wasn't like Hammerhead was any better. Sure, Cindy was there, and he enjoyed her company, started learning more about cars under her guidance too, but he also felt out of step there - in the way. Seemed like every transport that ran supplies from Lestallum to Hammerhead, he was the first assigned for security detail. It wasn't so much the trip itself that threw him, as he was surprised to see how quickly daemons had stopped rattling him; it was that crews now seemed thrilled to see him listed as their escort. Him? Prompto Argentum? Not a Glaive, barely a Crownsguard. Not the legendary Marshal, or famous Shield, or mythic former Commodore Aranea Highwind, with her airship and crew of loyal soldiers. People actually felt relieved and happy to know Prompto Argentum had their back. Accepting that new reality was as hard as calling Lestallum "home." 

But even still, no matter how many times he trekked, even voluntarily, to Hammerhead, he quickly found himself wondering how soon before the supply run would go back. He couldn't wait to get out of Hammerhead, but he couldn't wait to get out of Lestallum, either. He wondered if Ignis and Gladio ever felt the same way, but he didn't dare ask. Gladio seemed perfectly at home in Lestallum, with Iris and Talcott to look after, and by Cor's side, rebuilding what they could of the Guard and Glaive. And Ignis….

Ignis was still struggling. Prompto couldn't be so cruel as to ask him if he preferred one town to another when the scenery was literally the same no matter where he went - and as far as Prompto knew, he went nowhere. Blind escorts weren't in demand.

He stopped short and shook out his hands, exhaled deeply. Maybe going out to Meldacio was what he needed now. At least then he would feel out of place on purpose, on his own terms. He could do some real good out there. Probably no one in town would really miss him.

Except now. He got the distinct feeling that if he delayed any longer, Iris would accuse him of trying to get out of her party on purpose. He honestly wasn't - every stop had been genuine and accidental. He was rushing through the streets to get to Tostwell Grill as fast as he could. He couldn't help that the truck had been delayed, or that they had decided to unload on the east side of town, or that he had suddenly noticed how dirty all his clothes were. Or that he had stopped at least six times wondering what street he was on because he had been too lost in his own thoughts about maybe moving to notice if he had turned on the right corner. Or that he had stopped a seventh time, contemplating going back again to his room - was it going to be cold? It was the right season for it, but he wasn't convinced Lestallum ever got cold thanks to the power plant in the middle of town and the omnipresent lights guarding the city. 

He hadn't exactly been thrilled about Iris' invitation to a Glacian Festival party, but he would never do anything to disappoint her. She had insisted that they needed some normalcy in their lives, and he agreed, but the Glacian Festival had never been his idea of normal. His parents had never celebrated it, and by the time he was old enough to hang out with the Royal Retinue, Noct was so sick of having to attend the massive state celebration every year that he simply wanted Prompto to come over and act like it was just another day. Gladio was always happy to take the evening off and be with his family, and Ignis often tried to sneak festive cookies into the apartment, but largely stayed away too. Normal was rejecting everything about the festival. Normal was Noct, his best friend. Normal wasn't here anymore.

But Iris was right - they needed something. For the last two weeks, Prompto had found himself waffling back and forth: being 100% on board and pumped, fully believing in her spirit and desperately wanting to make it a success for her, and just wanting everything to go away. It had been a hard year. The hardest. Both options sounded right and horrible at the same time. Distractions were good, afterward they were bad; friends were good, after they'd all scatter to the winds again. Neither was going to make the worst year of his life go away.

"Oh, wow," Prompto said aloud to himself. He just passed Moatte's for what was a third time. He really needed to get out of his head and get on with it.

He put on his brightest smile and jumped several times to get his blood pumping, and by the time he knocked on the door, answered by Iris herself who was so happy she practically threw herself into Prompto, holding him tightly and saying, "I didn't think you were going to make it!", he was able to say, "Happy Festival of the Glacian," and actually mean it. 

Supplies had already dwindled in the new world of dark, but Iris had a special skill for finding exactly what she needed, seeing junk and turning it into a decoration or useful tool or a new piece of clothing. Prompto imagined what Iris had managed now would have paled in comparison to what she had been accustomed to in the Amicitia Manor; but it looked like what "going all out" would have been like for the families back in his old Insomnian neighborhood. As far as he could tell, there wasn't anything lacking despite the circumstances. They had music, they had snow decorations, they had food and alcohol. They had presents--

Oh my gods, they had presents. How?

"It's not like what we're used to, but Happy Festival of the Glacian, Prompto," Iris said, pushing a box toward him. 

"Wow, I've--" He stopped. _Never received a present on the Glacian Festival before._ "I didn't bring anything. Well, spare parts from Cindy, but…."

"Don't worry about it," Iris replied. "It's not much. I know it sounds kind of naive and dumb, but everyone coming was all I wanted, anyway."

He quickly unwrapped the box to find a very small crocheted chocobo on a keyring. "To help you find your way back when you escort the transports," she said as he looked over it carefully, his eyes widening with every tiny detail he picked out.

"I'm naming him Kewkington the Third and I am never. Letting. Him go."

"Told you he would like it," Gladio said, coming up behind his little sister with a bottle in his hand. "Happy Festival, Prompto."

"Yeah," Prompto replied, able to give a genuine smile. "Happy Festival."

He ended up dancing with Iris and Talcott; eating dinner with Monica, Libertus, and Jeanne; drinking way more than he had planned with Aranea and Cor; listening to Cid's story about the time King Mors' catering staff had accidentally ordered live daggerquills, which then ate all the ulwaat berries that were supposed to be part of the grand desert; getting his butt kicked in a card game with Gladio and Dave; sitting in front of the fire, despite the lack of cold, and listening to Sania explain why the current climate wouldn't result in snow, even though there was a historic precedence for at least a dusting by the Glacian Festival in Lestallum. He found himself in the circles of chats with others, almost as if the entire town had been invited. He barely knew some of them; and the others that he felt he knew reasonably well enough, he had honestly only known for a year or two at most. 

But still, it was good. It was very good. He had whole blocks of time during the night where he forgot that it would always be night, now, and that he simply couldn't hop on a truck and go see Cindy to wish her a wonderful Festival too - not without maybe putting someone else's life in danger, or risk damaging one of their transports. He'd almost forgotten that they were only just doing the best they could.

And while he had felt good in each and every moment, and relished in the community and companionship, it maybe had been too good. Like overeating. He hadn't known he was starved and now it felt like too much, that there was a heaviness in his chest that would burst. It _was_ good to see everyone, but it was _everyone_ , all at once, in one night, in one area, after weeks of isolation, and separation, and loneliness, and dark.

Well, everyone, except….

"Hey Gladio, where's Iggy?"

Gladio's face instantly soured. "Sulking. He didn't want to come, so he's back at his place."

"A party's a little too much right now, that's all," Iris corrected, giving her brother a look and pulling on his arm. "Stop drinking so much, Gladdy, you're getting grumpy."

Prompto looked at the table in the corner that had held all the presents when he first walked in - a lone package in blue with white icicle flourishes on the side remained. "Is that for Iggy?"

"Yeah. It's- he probably won't like it."

Prompto jogged to the table and picked it up. "He'll love anything you give him, Iris. I'll take it to him."

"Really? I was kind of hoping he'd still show, but I guess that's not happening. Everyone needs a present on the Festival day, so, if you really don't mind?"

"Sure." Prompto yawned. "Yeah, I should go, I'm totally beat, so probably going to hit the hay and sleep until next week. I'll drop it off on the way."

Iris hugged him again. "Thank you, Prompto! Tell him I'll have leftovers, I'll bring them over tomorrow."

"You don't come, you don't get to eat," Gladio grumbled.

"Stop being an ass, Gladdy."

Yep, definitely time to leave. Prompto waved to everyone and slipped out the door. Where had the last two hours gone? Just the mere thought of standing up straight made his shoulders ache as they started to creep up around his neck out in the Lestallum night air.

Ignis' present was no bigger than the one he had received, and Prompto found himself wondering if Iris had made him a crochet animal keyring too. Maybe he'd open it before Prompto left. A coeurl? Ignis did love the spotted pattern. Maybe a moogle to protect him, like she had made for Noct last year. A tonberry? Had to be a tonberry - kitchen knife and all, the joke just wrote itself.

He knocked on the door and with waning energy called out, "Hey Iggy, are you awake?"

It took a minute or two, but he heard the lock unlatch on the apartment door, and the door started to pull back. He was about to shove the present toward him, where he could grab his hands and put it directly in his palm. But instead, he was greeted with all the fire and fury Ignis could manage at that point in the evening.

"Gladio, for the fifth time, I have a headache. Now would you just leave me be!"

"Uh," Prompto replied. "Sorry to disturb you--"

"Prompto? Goodness, apologies, I thought Gladio had decided four rejections was still too ambiguous an answer. I- would you care to come in?"

"That's okay, Iggy, I don't want to bother you if you're not feeling well."

"Nonsense. Please," he said, stepping back and pulling the door open wider. "Apologies again, I wasn't expecting anyone tonight. Or rather, anyone else."

Prompto bit his lip. He was more than fine with stepping in and spending some time with Ignis, in general, but he absolutely did not want to be an imposition - and this very much felt like an imposition. What could he do, though? Ignis was now further into his apartment expecting Prompto to follow and he simply couldn't throw the box and run. "So, sounds like you've seen Gladio a few times tonight."

"More than a few," Ignis huffed. "On top of the more than a few visits yesterday, and the day before. He's been very insistent that I know every detail of tonight's festivities."

Prompto watched as Ignis put his hand to the wall and walked confidently, quickly, to the end. He'd been in this apartment since they returned from Niflheim; property and space were at a premium in Lestallum, but being part of the Royal Retinue served its perks. It would have been a hideously over-priced, ridiculously small apartment that some poor young adult would have been thrilled to have back a year ago; now it served as the perfect sized space for a newly blind Advisor who insisted on living on his own. He may have still been somewhat shaky out in public, but Ignis had configured his home perfectly - so much so that Prompto didn't see any sign of his cane nearby.

"Can I get something for you to drink?" Ignis asked, pulling his attention back to the moment.

"Oh, uh, no, that's okay Iggy, I--"

"Ah, you didn't intend to stay. I didn't mean to presume--"

"No, no, no no no no, it's okay!" Prompto had spent years trying to school his facial expressions and reactions, teach his skin not to flare up bright red with the tiniest hint of self-consciousness. He knew it was expected of a Crownsguard, but biology wasn't that easy to turn off, it turned out. So every awkward interaction, every less than ideal deal, he took it as a time to practice; mold himself into shape so that when Noct came back, he'd be utterly blown away by how ready Prompto was to serve at his side, just like Gladio and Ignis. 

Right now, he felt almost physical pain at having given Ignis the wrong impression. He had merely meant to be a good friend and then immediately remove himself so he could spend the rest of the Festival night letting the world weigh on his shoulders without dragging someone else down, or making them uneasy. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth which was barely open, his jaw locked in place. He squeezed his hands ever so slightly, where the movement would never be detected, and he willed his face to cool down. Ignis couldn't see his effort, but that was no excuse to not try and tame his embarrassment. "I can toooootally stay, dude."

And then he cringed, and felt his face go so red it was probably purple. Why had this become so suddenly awkward? It was Iggy, for Bahamut's sake. He hadn't felt awkward around Iggy since he was sixteen and was presented face-to-face (or rather face-to-chest given the height difference) with the Advisor, as Noct formally introduced him as a close friend.

Face-to-very-nicely-sculpted-chest, as he recalled.

No, that train of thought was not helping.

"Um," he said, interrupting only his own mental conversation, getting a better handle on the situation. "Iris got everyone a present. I said I would bring it to you, since you weren't, um. You know, with the headache."

"That was kind of her," Ignis answered, wearily. There was no gaze to avert, to speak of, but years of practice were ingrained in Ignis - he turned his head to the side, away from Prompto, and replied quietly, "I didn't want to disappoint Iris, but I'm afraid I'm not in the Festival spirit."

"It's okay, Iggy. I get it." 

"It was kind of you to deliver it, as well."

Prompto smiled. "Of course. Do you want me to...?"

"If you'll place it on the kitchen table. I'll unwrap it later."

"Okay. She said she'd stop by tomorrow with leftovers, too." It was probably time to leave. Time to turn around, wish Ignis a good night, and finish his walk to his own apartment. That's what he had wanted, when he left the Amicitia holiday spectacular early, after all. Company had fixed things for a while, and now it was time to let solitude have its turn.

"So," Prompto said, unable to help it. "Gladio asked you to help?"

"Hmm?"

"You said he wanted to make sure you knew everything going on with the party, you and Iris and him, you all were planning it for everyone?"

"Hardly," Ignis said, his voice a little sharper than it had been earlier. "No, this is a classic Amicitia gathering. I had nothing to do with it."

"But, you said--"

"Gladio wanted to make sure everyone attended. He wasn't pleased when I indicated that I had other plans tonight."

"Iris _was_ hoping to see everyone there."

Ignis sighed. "I know, Prompto, but I--"

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I...almost didn't go, either. I was just saying...I'm not sure. But like I said, Iggy, I get it. I do. It's all...I mean it was fun, I had fun, but...."

Ignis started his way to his very small couch, motioning for Prompto to have a seat. He only had one other chair, awkwardly placed away from the couch - most likely so Ignis could have the option of company at some point without constantly running into a mostly useless piece of furniture anytime he wanted to sit in his tiny living room. "The Glacian Festival was Clarus Amicitia's favorite holiday. If I remember correctly, he even proposed to his wife during it one year. Both Gladio and Iris are used to very large events, parties so magnificent they almost rivaled the royal celebration. It's always been...a bit much."

"You used to go?"

"Once," Ignis replied. "I was invited often, but Noct had always had his fill by the evening and never wanted to attend."

"And you didn't want to leave him alone and go have fun?"

"Not exactly, no," Ignis answered. "I shouldn't pin all of it on Noct. I didn't like the idea of leaving him, but I largely used that as an excuse to avoid going." He quietly laughed. "As I said, it was a bit much. In any case, I suppose Gladio thought my opinion on the matter had changed simply because everything else had, and he always stubbornly thinks he knows what's best for everyone. Were you never invited, Prompto? To their celebrations in Insomnia?"

"Nope," he replied. 

"Hm, I suppose had everything gone to plan, you would have spent this Festival at the manor. Perhaps Lady Lunafreya would have been able to convince Noct to make an appearance as well."

"But, you wouldn't have been there? Still?"

"No. I would have left them to their own devices and celebrated in my preferred way."

Prompto looked around. "Which is...sitting...in the dark?"

"Goodness," Ignis replied, embarrassed. "Apologies, I forget sometimes that it's necessary for others. Let me correct that." 

"It's just the living room, you had the hall lights on. Guess it was a pretty safe bet Gladio was coming back, huh?"

"So I thought." After Ignis turned on his lone living room light, he proceeded to the kitchen, and moved directly to a lower cupboard, pulling out a kettle. "Are you sure you don't want anything to drink, Prompto? I'm making some hot tea for myself. What is your preference? Herbal? Black? Green?"

Prompto hesitated. "Bubble?"

"Oh," he called from the kitchen. "Are you not fond of tea? How did I not know that?"

"I wouldn't say I'm not a fan, more like hot water's always been for hot chocolate?"

"I don't think I have any chocolate to melt. Or milk," he said, mostly to himself.

"You pick, Iggy, I'm sure you know what the best kind is."

"You are correct, I do. But I'm afraid I haven't had that variety for some time. I do have a spiced black tea, though - fitting for the season."

Prompto sat in the chair and drummed his fingers on his knees as he waited for Ignis to finish in the kitchen. While Iris had gone all out at Tostwell, it was overly generous to even call Ignis' living room sparse; where greenery and white and blue ribbons had been hung from every corner of the restaurant, Ignis had a multitude of grey, blank walls. "So, what was your preferred way?"

"Beg your pardon?"

Prompto quickly tired of sitting alone and moved into the kitchen, opting instead to lean against the wall opposite of the stove. "You said you had a preferred way to celebrate the Glacian Festival?"

"Indeed." Ignis reached up to the cabinet on his left and opened it, pulling out a mug that sat very close to the edge. He had to pat around to find a second one, and Prompto realized that he probably never had a reason to have two out at one time - a loneliness that was confirmed when Ignis immediately rinsed the second mug out with a bit of water from the faucet, not bothering to do the same with the first he had grabbed. 

"It's unfortunate that Lestallum is as hot as it is," Ignis said. He quickly recanted, "Rather, for the season, I mean. We're a great deal fortunate that it produces as much energy as it does."

"Too warm for tea?"

"Perhaps," Ignis replied, opening a box and pulling out two tea bags, the smell of which almost instantly hit Prompto. He couldn't put a finger on the different scents mixed in the blend, but there was something very comforting about it, very warm. Very...Insomnia, the week before the Glacian Festival parades and days off school, the way shopping malls suddenly smelled as they were covered in temptations to spend his allowance on a perfect gift for someone special. He couldn't lie - even though it had never been his holiday, he did miss the clockwork aspect of fall ending and the Glacian Festival advertisements beginning.

"But," Ignis continued, interrupting his thoughts, "I find that it is relaxing regardless of the temperature. Perhaps it's just the smell."

"Oh my gods, Iggy, I was just thinking the same thing!"

"The smell of tea?"

"Well, no," Prompto said. "Not specifically tea, just...."

"The smell of home?"

"Yeah."

Neither said anything until the kettle whistled and Ignis, despite not being able to see where the handle was, deftly picked it up and started to pour, carefully keeping his thumb on the edge of the cup so that he could tell how full the mug was without burning his finger. "I would indulge in a fire. And a drink."

"Huh?"

"My preferred way to celebrate," he answered, taking his own mug and then stepping back to allow Prompto the room to grab his. "Three weeks prior to the holiday, I would call a chimney sweep to inspect the fireplace in my quarters at the Citadel."

"I thought you lived in the complex with Noct?"

"I did," he answered. "But I had living quarters at the Citadel too, as did Gladio and Noct. I'm sure you would have been issued some this year, had...." He stopped and blew on his tea, taking a small sip. "In any case, my private apartment was far too small for such a thing, and I dared not light a fire after leaving the official quarters uninhabited all year long. I'd have it cleaned and inspected by the holiday, and then I would build a small fire. And make a spiked cider. And turn off my phone. Gladio told me it always sounded so sad and lonely."

"Sounds nice," Prompto answered, still unable to drink the tea, jerking back his tongue the first few times he tried to make contact. "I mean, for you, I know you never got any time to yourself. I kind of had similar Festivals, but without the fire, and the alcohol."

"Or the intent?"

"Yeah," Prompto said, quietly. 

"Well, as you can see, Prompto," Ignis said, waving his arm around. "No fire, no alcohol. No snow or even cold weather. I haven't even had an opportunity to miss my old holiday sweaters."

Prompto laughed. "How come I've never seen you in a sweater, let alone a holiday one?"

"Glacian Festival miracle, I'm afraid."

"Yeah. Kind of wish we could go back to last year. Maybe I would have pushed everyone to do something together. Even if it was dumb, or tiny."

Ignis stood with his arms crossed, his unseeing eyes staring straight into his tea. "Yes. That would have been nice."

Prompto could feel his eyes well up. "No more Noct to worry about, either, huh?" he said. "I guess you don't miss making those cookies on your one day off."

"You noticed those?"

"Uh, yeah, dude," Prompto said, quickly wiping his arm over his eyes, hiding a sniffle in his mug. "Those were the best. Noct always pretended that he didn't care, but I wasn't eating all dozen by myself."

"I never knew."

Prompto laughed. "I guess I need to start writing all this down. When Noct returns we're going to make some changes. First off, sweaters are mandatory. Everyone, for at least three days. The uglier the better. And then just the four of us, we should get together - or the night before, if Gladio still needs to host a party...I guess if he still feels up to it. I know he did it this year to try to make everything feel better than it is but maybe he won't feel that way back in Insomnia. We can get rid of the big royal celebration, right? Or, or would people really want that?"

"Prompto." Ignis' voice was shaky, in a way he had never heard before. 

"Yeah?"

"I miss making those cookies most of all."

If Prompto had taken a moment to think about it, to reflect on his impulse at all, he would have stopped dead in his tracks, mortified that he had even considered the action let alone went through with it. But his instincts kicked in immediately and before he could have a thought, he had put his mug down on the little kitchen table and pushed his way into Ignis arms, grabbing him tightly and pulling him close, hugging him as fiercely as he could. 

Ignis was slightly taken aback, at first not even sure what had happened, not being able to see Prompt coming. But it didn't take long. It was something he had not felt in a long time, something more far removed than spiked cider and snowy Festival nights. Ignis quickly melted into the hug, reciprocating and doing his best not to let any tears roll down his face from underneath his visor and land in Prompto's hair. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry, Iggy."

"It's quite alright."

"No, I mean--" Prompto pulled back a little. "I'm sorry for not coming and visiting you more often. Or telling you that you make the best cookies, dude. And for never seeing one of those sweaters, I really regret that, probably most of all. And, and--" Prompto hugged him again, this time a little tighter.

Ignis quietly laughed. "I could have made them for the party, the cookies. Had someone asked."

"You still could?"

"I very much doubt that, Prompto. They should be about exhausted by this time."

"Yeah, but, there's tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Ignis hesitated. "I don't think I have the proper ingredients. No, I know I can't obtain what I really need to fully recreate them."

"I can go shopping?"

"Prompto."

"Iggy, you just said--"

"I know. But there's precious few resources left, Prompto. I don't even know if we'd be able to find close to what we need at this point."

"So," Prompto replied. "Use what you have? You're a genius at food, Iggy. Can't you take like a fish, a tomato, and some peas and make like the world's best roast out of it?"

Ignis laughed, the most relaxed Prompto had heard him all night. "I appreciate your opinion of my culinary expertise, but none of that was remotely correct. Still, I suppose you are right. Necessity is the mother of invention."

"What's in your fridge right now?"

"Carrots."

"Okay, well, that's no good."

"Actually," Ignis replied, pulling back, setting down his tea and tapping his fingers on his chin. "I could make use of those. And...Prompto, would you check my cupboards? Do I have any ginger and cinnamon?"

"There we go! That's the ol' Iggy!"

"I'm fairly certain the market has apples on sale as well."

Ignis insisted it was still far too late to start making anything, but he did ask Prompto to write down various ideas as they popped into his head and to check on the quantity and quality of his current stock. After about an hour of brainstorming, Ignis reheated the kettle for more tea, and they found themselves back in the living room, Ignis resting on the couch and Prompto choosing to sit beside him rather than in the distant corner in the lone chair.

"I suppose I should have gone tonight, even for a brief amount of time," Ignis sighed.

Prompto leaned back and held his mug in his hands. The size of the couch made it so they were arm to arm, something he would have been scrambling to rectify earlier that night. Now, not so much. It felt nice to have the contact, the warmth that came through Ignis' sleeve and spread throughout his own skin. "Nah, it's fine. It was still...a lot. Besides, this is good too."

"You can't mean that, Prompto. You said you weren't alone on Glacian Festivals by choice."

"Yeah but, this isn't alone. It's just...quiet."

Ignis paused. "I suppose you're right."

"I think it's what I needed, Iggy. Ignoring it wouldn't have made me feel better, but--"

"Too far the other direction wasn't helping either."

"Like I said. I get it."

"Thank you, Prompto. I think you might be the only person who does."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Are you still willing to help me bake and take packages to everyone in the morning?"

"You bet," Prompto said.

"Then I'd best let you go home. It's rather late."

"Okay." Prompto smiled and then sunk further into the couch. "Or...hear me out, since the market opens in like two hours, I just hang out for a while longer and you can describe your ugliest sweater to me."

"Prompto."

"Okay, okay."

"Not that I wouldn't love your company, but you did get home from a mission today. You must be exhausted."

"You're right," Prompto smiled. "Thanks Iggy."

"Leave your mug, I'll wash it later."

"Fine. Hey, before I go? You should at least open the present from Iris. I'm dying to know what she got you."

Ignis mulled it over. "Then you'll get some rest?"

"Promise."

"Very well."

Ignis opened the small box carefully, somehow not even ripping any part of the paper. He had a curious look on his face as he reached in and felt around. "Some fabric, and...metal?" He held it up for Prompto to see. "Is it a keyring?"

"Yeah, she crocheted little mascots for everyone."

"That must have taken her some time. I can't quite make out what it is though - seems it has wings and...something on its head?"

"Yeah, it's mostly white and red? Looks like those things we fought at the Vesperpool, uh, cockatrice?"

Ignis let out a sudden hearty laugh. "That'll be a Kingatrice, then."

"I don't get it."

"You'll notice we sport very similar hairstyles," Ignis mused. "Normally, anyway."

"And you're a member of the Royal Retinue, okay I get it now."

"What did she make for you?"

"Chocobo. Natch."

"Of course."

"Wait," Prompto said, suddenly putting a hand to his hair and pushing it back. "Do you think she picked all of these based on our hairstyles? What do you think Gladio got?"

"A Behemoth, of course."

"That doesn't disprove it."

"Prompto."

"Yeah, Iggy?"

"Good night."

Prompto smiled. "Yeah, okay, you need your sleep, I get it." 

He turned to leave when Ignis suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back, closer to where he could quickly plant a small kiss on Prompto's forehead. "Thank you. Good night."

~~~

_One Year Later_

"Come on, come on come on come onnnnnnn," Prompto said. Yep, he'd grown up so much in the past few years - going from a nervous and super shy member of a royal posse to Prompto Argentum, best gunner in the land, a man who had looked monsters in the eye and walked into the hell that was Gralea, drowning in daemons and scourge, and made it back alive. A man who made his reputation during the night by making sure none of his crewmates fell on transport runs between all the major hubs in Lucis. A man counted on by many to keep hope's flame alive in the darkest of dark.

A man who was now stomping back and forth like an impatient, small child, desperately waiting to be given clearance to leave his team as they painfully, slowly assessed the transport vehicle for any minor sign of damage before checking it back in. 

"Pleeeeeeease," Prompto pleaded with the Glaive on duty - no, not any Glaive, but Libertus Ostium himself. 

"Trust me, you'll thank me later when we have to take this particular truck back out on the road."

"But it's the Festival of the Glacian," Prompto said, almost pulling his fingers down his face in pure frustration. "The faster we do this, the faster you can go to Tostwell's and see what kind of punch Gladio mixed this year."

"Fine," Libertus sighed. "You can go on."

"I owe you, buddy!"

"Three times over, now!"

Prompto grabbed his bag and ran straight through town, dodging people left and right. Things were getting worse, they objectively were - and yet, people were starting to adapt. It was less shell shock and more buckling down, meeting the challenge. Despite the horrors common outside the walls of Lestallum, the people inside were celebrating again, coming up with new holidays and customs to commemorate another year. Not even a special year, or a particular good year - just the pure joy of recognizing that they had made it through the worst the year had to offer, and they were still there.

He slid to a stop and didn't even bother to knock, entering their apartment and jogging into the kitchen. "I don't know how, but they had the best apples."

Ignis was elbow deep in batter in the kitchen, the sweet smell of baking carrying through. "How was the trip back from Meldacio?"

"You know," Prompto said, setting the bag of apples down on the kitchen table and giving Ignis a quick peck on the cheek. "Not great. But everyone came back, nobody was hurt. I repeat, I got amazing apples somehow. And the Hunters think they have enough power shards to power up Capitis Haven, so we may be able to get to the Myrlwood by the middle of the year."

"That's wonderful news."

"Yep. And, best of all?" Prompto preened. "I got back. In. Time. So, tell me what you need me to do."

"Thank you, love," Ignis replied. "For now, get out of my way."

"Can do. I am so good at that."

They knew they'd be late, but at least this year they'd have something to give out - something Prompto could say with absolute confidence was easily the best present. Not that he had a bias when it came to cookies, but, clearly, obviously, nothing beat Ignis' Spiced Glacian Cookies. After a flurry of chopping, baking, boxing - Ignis handling almost all of the actual cooking while Prompto boxed and drew individual decorations on top - they were ready to head out. 

"Hold on, I almost forgot," Ignis said, quickly retreating to the bedroom. When he came back, he was wearing an oversized and ridiculously tacky scarf, wrapped around his shoulders and neck.

"Where on Eos did you get that?" Prompto laughed. 

"I'm afraid if I told you, it might spoil your present."

"Should I be afraid?"

"Perhaps."

Prompto started gathering the boxes. "How are you not burning up right now, Igs?"

"Commitment." He grabbed Prompto away from the cookies and pulled him in close. "Two hours, tops."

"Right. Then back here for some tea and couch time. I managed to find some candles the last time I was out in Hammerhead so we can sit by some very tiny, mini fires. One of them is supposed to even smell like cinnamon."

"Prompto, how?"

Prompto grinned. "Well, that might spoil the rest of your Festival present, so…."

Ignis shut him up by kissing him deeply, a year's worth of affection and gratitude and love and relief and hope for many more on his lips and in his embrace. "Happy Festival of the Glacian, Prompto."

"You too, Iggy. Happy Festival."


End file.
